


mea culpa

by kaptivated



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Everybody Lives, Gen, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Game(s), Virtual Reality, gonta and saihara are barely there sorry, ouma-centric, the saiouma is also barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaptivated/pseuds/kaptivated
Summary: Ouma did this to himself. He made himself evil for the sake of ending the killing game. To stop all these meaningless deaths.He wakes up and finds that it was all for nothing.





	mea culpa

**Author's Note:**

> it's 3am i wrote this in an hour and it's a mess, hope you like it

Ouma rolls over in his sterilized bed and winces as the white lights flicker on and sear into his eyes. He mumbles in drowsy little groans as the nurse sets food on his table with a loud _clank_ and asks him how he feels with a thinly-veiled disinterest. He sits up and makes a show of being a good boy eating up his stale breakfast rolls until the nurse leaves, then immediately drops back into the hard mattress. It sends a wave of electricity through his atrophying nerves and god, just lying down should not be making his entire body go numb right now.  
  
He flickers in and out of sleep, turns about and picks at his skin until the dead flakes gather up in the folds of the sheets and little splotches of blood dot the cotton like splattered paint on a crumbling building. A visitor rouses him from his state of semi-consciousness.  
  
"Gonta miss you again today."  
  
"Kokichi promised to be friends with everybody."  
  
"Gonta keep waiting for Kokichi to come see everybody soon!"  
  
Ouma blinks against the pillowcase and pretends to be asleep. He counts sheep. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten sheep for the slaughter. It should've been one. It should've been him. He can see them, Gonta. He can see everybody right here, in his mind. He can see their rotting corpses, glaring up at him with crimson melting into their pale flesh, skin sliced open maggots crawling inside oozing pink fat sputtering out leaking dead dead dead dead dead So fucking useless you couldn't do anything your act was for nothing. They're alive after all. It should make him happy. So why does it make him feel even worse?  
  
The visitor leaves him again.  
  
Ouma fumbles for the remote with his pale, shaky hand and turns on the television. He gathers up the blanket tighter and tighter and squeezes himself into a violently trembling cage.  
  
He pauses. Reset. He closes his eyes and holds his fingers over his crusted lips until his breathing settles into an eerie nothingness. Less feeling, less thinking, just be. A mask of a blank expression sews itself onto the face of its owner and it feels suffocating and stretched oh so thin and yet so very comfortable.  
  
The television cries out and demands a trial. The bear and the robot bend to its will. The television assures everyone that it has a plan. Its voice seeps into Ouma's ears. It holds him close in a warm embrace, _his_ scent enveloping him, _his_ golden eyes smiling at him, and it whispers,  
  
"You're alone."  
  
"You always will be."  
  
"I'll end what you couldn't."  
  
"Useless."  
  
"Useless."  
  
"Useless."  
  
"Useless," Ouma mutters bitterly to himself as he claws at his face. Still, the mask won't come off. It won't come off. It won't come off...!

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
The nurse hands Ouma a mirror. In it is a bloody, bandaged monster. He throws the hideous image against the ceramic tiled floor.  
  
"Don't ever show me such a despicable person ever again."  
  
The nurse smiles as they inform the staff that their patient has finally spoken.


End file.
